


Soft On The Inside

by vix_spes



Series: Christmas Gift!Fics 2013 [18]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas, Cuddles, Dwarf Courting, Established Relationship, Insecurity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-06 00:05:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1100132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vix_spes/pseuds/vix_spes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ori has already been feeling a bit useless as they try and make Erebor inhabitable … the last thing he needs is to be ill as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soft On The Inside

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mm8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mm8/gifts).



The next bought of coughing left Ori doubled over and wheezing for breath, hoping that nobody had heard him. The last thing he needed was people rushing to see if he was okay and definitely the last thing he needed was Dori fussing over him. Besides, everybody had much more important things to be doing rather than checking that Ori was okay. This was the first winter that the dwarrows had spent back in Erebor and, to be truthful, the mountain wasn’t ready for habitation. Not that that had stopped a variety of dwarrows returning home after news had reached them of Smaug’s defeat. The Company were sharing two large rooms with Thorin refusing to sleep in the royal wing until his people had rooms themselves that were fit for use.  
  
Most of the inhabitants had been put to work clearing away the detritus left behind by Smaug’s occupation with a few exceptions; Bofur and Bifur had been put in charge of ensuring what stonework was actually safe and which mines could be safely reopened as soon as there were miners. Another exception were the Brothers ‘Ri. Their family had always belonged to the Weavers Guilds and so, with the equipment that could be salvaged, they had been assigned the task of providing blankets and quilts to help the dwarves survive the harsh winter of Erebor. It was a task that came easier to Dori and Nori than to Ori.  
  
Ori hadn’t been born in Erebor; his Amad had been pregnant when Smaug attacked and Ori had been born on the road, growing up with Kili who was a scant few months older than him. The hardships had taken their toll on the two of them but particularly on Ori. He wasn’t as strong as the other dwarrows and was more prone to getting ill. He had also not had the opportunity to learn his families craft. Instead, once their Amad had died while Ori was still a dwarfling, Dori had scrimped and saved while Nori stole in order to have Ori trained as a scribe by Balin himself. When the libraries and archives could actually be accessed, Ori would take up the triple position of Royal scribe, librarian and archivist. For the time being, he would help out as best as he could which, in Ori’s opinion, was very little.  
  
Ori had never been invited on the Quest for his abilities with a weapon (although he had proved himself a dab hand with Dwalin’s Warhammer) or any abilities like Nori and he had accepted that; he was there to keep an account of their journey, to document it. He had accepted that, he was happy with that and he had consoled himself that he would be more useful when they reached Erebor. Only that wasn’t the case. He couldn’t access the archives or the libraries, he wasn’t strong enough to shift the mounds of rubble left by Smaug and he couldn’t work the looms that Dori and Nori had found. All he could do was knit woollen items as fast as he could to help keep everybody warm.  
  
To top it all off, he was getting sick. He’d never felt more useless.  
  
“Ori? Ye alrigh’?”  
  
And there was yet another reason for him to feel a little useless and inadequate; his One was none other than Dwalin Fundinson, cousin to Thorin Oakenshield and Captain of his guard. They had started courting in secret in Ered Luin but, after the Goblin King had singled Ori out, Dwalin had wanted to come clean about their relationship. The minute that they had arrived at the sanctuary of Beorn’s house, he had spoken to Dori and Nori, telling them of his intentions towards Ori. It hadn’t gone particularly well – there had been a lot of shouting and violent threats – but his older brothers were finally starting to accept Ori’s choice. That was wonderful because it meant that one day Ori could actually marry Dwalin but at the moment, as much as Ori loved Dwalin and as wonderful as the older dwarrow was, Ori didn’t really want to see him. Unfortunately, luck wasn’t with him and Dwalin appeared in the doorway.  
  
“Ori?”  
  
Ori turned to look at the older dwarrow, his bulk easily taking up most of the doorway and smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.  
  
“Everything alright ghivashel?”  
  
The term of endearment didn’t make Ori smile as it usually did. Instead, all it did was make him angry. “Why does everybody keep asking me that?”  
  
Dwalin slowly edged into the room. Ori might not be the biggest or strongest of dwarrows but he had survived the Quest, wielded Dwalin’s Warhammer and proved to have a vicious temper.  
  
“I don’t know why everyone else is asking but you missed dinner so I brought you some and,” here he gave Ori a stern glance, “you were coughing in your sleep. We all heard ye. Your temperature’s up an’ all.”  
  
And there was another reason that Dori was unhappy. They might not be having sex but Dori was very unhappy that Dwalin and Ori had a nest of blankets away from the rest of the Company. But that wasn’t the point. Ori set his knitting aside and gestured Dwalin into the room, listing against his solid bulk as Dwalin sat next to him. Dwalin flung an arm around Ori’s shoulders, thick fingers playing with his hair as Ori picked listlessly at the food.  
  
“Why are you with me Dwalin?” The words ripped out of Ori’s mouth before he could stop them. “I’m useless, I’m not a warrior. I’m nothing special.”  
  
“Wha? Don’t talk rubbish. Yer special because ye’re you. Yer my One Ori, an’ I love ye.”  
  
Ori sniffled then, a little at Dwalin’s words and a little as a result of his cold. Dwalin was one of Erebor’s bravest and finest warriors, had been since the days of Azanulbizar and before, and there was no doubting that or his skill with just about any weapon that he used (although he obviously showed a preference for Grasper and Keeper). What Ori both rued and relished was the fact that only a select group of dwarrows got to know that truth; that behind the seasoned warrior was a complete and utter softy. Ori had come to realise this over the years, both as Balin’s apprentice but also as the dwarrow that Dwalin was courting.  
  
With Dwalin holding the position that he held, not to mention the fact that he was a cousin of King Thorin and distantly related to Durin himself, everything had to be done properly. While both Dwalin and Ori wanted things to move quicker, eager to go through the final rites, things had to go at the expected pace and, if he was being truthful, Dwalin couldn’t imagine getting married anywhere other than Erebor.  
  
Ori tried to take another mouthful of stew, only to end up having a coughing fit that left him gasping for breath as it ended. As he was still struggling to catch his breath, Ori was wracked with shivers and he knew that he was going to end up being coddled; not only by Dwalin but by Dori, the ultimate mother-hen. Dwalin wasn’t wasting any time as Ori immediately felt the heavy weight of Dwalin’s fur-trimmed cloak settle around his shoulders. The fabric completely swamped his figure but Ori melted into it, relishing the smell of Dwalin all around him not to mention the way that Dwalin instinctively drew him closer. Ori had barely moved from his spot all day – the fact that he hadn’t turned up for dinner and hadn’t even realised it was time for dinner testified to that – and when Dwalin drew him to his feet, Ori swayed as his head spun.  
  
That was the last straw for Dwalin and he simply swung Ori up into his arms, heading towards the door and leaving Ori’s knitting and the half-eaten dinner behind them. Under any other circumstances Ori would have protested, not wanting to appear weak, but Dwalin was simply radiating heat and Ori simply snuggled in emitting a variety of happy noises. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad to have a nap if he could snuggle in with Dwalin and Dori would be suitably cowed by Dwalin’s glare.  
  
Besides, the winter celebrations would begin in a few days and Ori had absolutely no intention of missing them. He had knitted gifts for everybody as well as doing each dwarrow a sketch in ink of themselves at some point or other during the Quest and he desperately wanted to see everybody’s reactions to their presents. Maybe a couple of days rest would sort him out; he really didn’t want to have to swallow any of Oin’s potions. Yes, that was exactly what he needed; a couple of days rest snuggled under blankets with Dwalin as his personal heater and pillow. Kíli and Fíli would tease him something rotten but if there was anybody who could persuade Dwalin to snuggle like the softy he was, it was Ori.

**Author's Note:**

> If you would prefer to comment on LJ, you can do so [here](http://vix-spes.livejournal.com/152872.html)


End file.
